


The Scottish Thistle and the French Iris

by An_Old_Yet_Young_Soul



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, Historical figures mentioned, I hope you like it, Please don't hate me for OOC characters, Scotland/OC - Freeform, This was hard to name
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Old_Yet_Young_Soul/pseuds/An_Old_Yet_Young_Soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1537, and King James V of Scotland is looking for a bride. In need of French favor, he seeks to woo Mary of Guise, future mother to Mary Queen of Scots. But with Mary comes Francis with a marriage proposal of his own. In order to cement the bonds between France and Scotland further, Allistor must wed Francis's daughter, Anne, the personification of Paris.<br/>Follow the story of these two young lovers, from the 16th century to the 21st.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You’re out of your bloody mind, Francis. You’re asking me to bed your daughter. You know how insane that sounds coming from you?” Allistor asked his friend.  
Francis Bonnefoy sighed. “Oui. It is strange. But it cannot be helped. Like you said, you need the French. And my daughter is in need of a husband. I fail to see how this is a problem.”  
“Wasn’t she just married not that long ago?”  
“It was 30 years ago. And yes, she was. But Anne was a child then. And Antonio was not a good match.”  
“And you think I will be?”  
“It was either you, Gilbert’s younger brother, or Roderich. And I’d rather she be here with you than where I may never see her again.”  
Allistor sighed. There was no way he’d get out from under his brother’s thumb without the help of a more powerful nation. Francis was all he could get his hands on at the time and he couldn’t just wait for better opportunities to come along. “Fine. I’ll do it. At least say I get to meet the lass first.”  
“But of course. You think I would come all the way here and leave her in Paris? Non, mon ami. She is at her lessons at the moment.”  
Lesson? God help him. She was still young enough to need them. Or at least it needed to look like she was. “Lessons? I take it you brought her nursemaid too, aye?”  
Francis laughed and took a drink of wine. “She’s out at her riding lessons. And she doesn’t have a nursemaid anymore.” With a few words to a nearby maid in French, Francis sent her to fetch his daughter.  
“Tell me what she’s like. I don’t want to go diving into deep water before I know how to swim.”  
“She’s like us, so you won’t have to worry about having her die on you in the next few decades. She likes to ride, not so much hunt. Her embroidery and needlework are fantastic. She loves children.”  
“I meant tell me her personality, you twit. Not the things that would make her a good wife.”  
Francis sighed. “I think you’ll be able to figure that out for yourself, mon ami. Ah! There you are, ma petite fluer!”  
Allistor turned to look in the direction of the door where a young woman, who looked to be no older than sixteen, stood. Her skin was pale, to the point where the veins in her face could faintly be seen, and her hair was dark brown, almost black, and was covered by a fine jeweled mesh cap. She wore her hair pulled up in a complicated looking braided crown that wound about her head in a way that showed off her forehead more so than anything else. She had a thin, slender neck that bore a single necklace; a large silver crucifix on a pearl string that hung down to sit on her bust. The pendant was inlaid with precious stones, sapphires perhaps? Maybe something else. Allistor had never paid much attention to jewels. The girl wore a red kirtle and a deep blue cotehardie. She seemed thin and frightened, like she had been hurriedly changed and thrown into the room, which she probably had been.  
She looked at Allistor, raised her slim eyebrows at him, and met his gaze without hesitation. She curtsied formally and rose back up. “Bonjour.” She said. Her voice was trembling slightly, whether from the cold or from fear Allistor couldn’t tell.  
Allistor nodded and looked at Francis. “Does she speak English?”  
“Yes I do, my lord. My name is Anne Catherine.” The girl, Anne, said her voice a touch stronger.  
Allistor looked back to her and gestured to the seat beside Francis. She sat, hands folded in her lap, back straight, head held high. Jesus Mary and Joseph, what kind of nursemaid did this girl have that made her sit so stiff?  
“Now then, mon petite, I have brought you here because, as you know, your friend Marie de Guise will be marrying James V of Scotland.”  
“Yes, papa. I know. She was busy making plans to leave when we left.”  
“I know, mon cheri. Now, you also know that I have been searching for a husband for you as well.”  
Anne went to nod, then stopped, frozen. She looked at her father, then at Allistor, and shook her head. “Non. Papa, non. Vous ne pouvez pas me forcer à épouser cet homme!”  
At this Francis became angry, which wasn’t hard to do, and raised his voice. “Vous ferez comme vous dit Anne!"  
At that, Anne stood, tears in her eyes, gave a small curtsy, and rushed from the room. As the heavy oaken door shut, Allistor could hear her retreating footsteps and soft sobs. Whatever Francis had said had upset her.  
Francis sighed. “I’m terribly sorry, old friend. She isn’t usually like this.”  
“Well if I was told I would have ot marry a stranger I’d probably object too. Have you thought about sending her south to my little brother?”  
At that Francis laughed. “and merry her to the country who’s king lopped off the head of his last wife? Non, mon ami. It is either you, the Holy Roman Empire, or Austria that I make my alliance with. I will have no other.”  
Allistor sighed. There wasn’t much he could say to that. The Holy Roman Empire was just a small child, and Anne looked to be at least seventeen. People would talk. And he had heard that Austria was a miserly, stingy old man who cared for nothing but his music. Pretty as Anne was, she would wither up and die there. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll marry your daughter.”  
Francis gave a happy cry and kissed his friend on both cheeks. “Merci beaucoup Allistor! You will not regret this!”


	2. Chapter 2

The date was set. On the day Marie de Guise was set to marry James V of Scotland, Anne would wed Allistor. Already, Francis was speaking with a seamstress and measurements were being taken, although the wedding would not be for another year. After a heavy scolding from her father, and much arguing, Anne had locked herself in her chambers and refused to come out.  
Francis was furious, calling her ungrateful and saying all sorts of things that a father should never say to his child. Eventually though, after they both had a chance to calm down, they came upon an agreement; Anne would wed Allistor without complaint if she were allowed time alone with him to get to know him. She refused to let her maidenhood be sacrificed on the altar of political alliance. So, Francis agreed.  
Right away, anything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. Allistor tried to give his fiancé flowers, which she turned out to be allergic to. Anne tried to sew her future husband a jacket, which proved to be too small and had to be put away in hopes that she could give it to her son if she ever had one. Eventually, the two settled into a muted silence and forced one-word exchanges after Francis was forced to return to France and leave his daughter there when he left on urgent business.  
Anne wrote daily to her father, and when he asked her in a letter how she was being treated, she wrote “Do not misunderstand and think that I am being mistreated, Papa. I am fed well, housed well, and treated well by all except my soon-to-be husband. It is not that he is cruel to me and beats me, but that he treats me with a mild neglect, as if I were a stray dog or an unwelcomed guest.”  
It wasn’t until they moved to the Edinburgh Castle that things truly changed between the two. The weather was bitter cold and rainy, and the soon-to-be-newlyweds needed to get used to being alone together. So, James V saw it fitting to send his charges off for a bit with the usual pack of servants, grooms, and the like. Anne brought three handmaidens of her own, who spoke French and comforted her when her fiancé ignored her; Lyanna Thompson, Evangeline Barter, and Selena Gill.  
The day the group set out for Edinburgh castle from Stirling Castle was a cold day, and the four day journey wasn’t easy.  
Anne rode in a litter piled with cushions and blankets and hung with thick curtains to fight off the chill. The whole way there, Allistor ignored his bride save to ask her how she was. Anne would peek at him through the curtains, pale faced and looking rather weak, but she would nod and say she was fine before ducking back into the warmth. Allistor soon learned when they got to Edinburgh that she had been lying to him.  
When they arrived, it had begun to snow, a late winter snow, and Allistor wondered if his bride had had the sense to go inside and not wait to be helped out of the litter. What he saw, after he realized she had not gone inside, was Selena, Lyanna and Evangeline hovering around the litter, looking rather worried and frightened.  
“What’s happened?” he asked Lyanna, the one who spoke the best and most English.   
She turned her dark eyes up at him, lips pressed tight in a line. “Her ladyship is ill, we fear. We cannot get her to come out.”  
Allistor looked inside the litter to see that Anne had wrapped herself tightly in the blankets and she was still shivering, her lips pale and blue. The poor girl. France was warmer and she wasn’t yet used to the cold. He should’ve actually spoken to her, made sure she was warm enough. With well-practiced ease, Allistor carried his bride indoors and set her down by the roaring fire in the main room.   
“Speak to me, lass. Can you breathe?” he asked her, his own larger hands rubbing her small tightly clenched ones.  
Anne’s eyes cracked open slightly, then wider as she nodded softly, trying to sit up. The color began to return to her lips, and she smiled softly at him, muttering something softly in French.  
“Come again?” Allistor asked.  
“She says she’s sorry for troubling you.” Lyanna translated as she handed her mistress a cup full of steaming liquid, tea no doubt.  
“Troubling me?”  
Anne spoke again, her hands shaking so bad that Allistor had to steady the cup on her hands. Allistor looked to Lyanna, who sighed softly. “She says that she did not want you to think you were marrying a weak woman.”  
Allistor sighed. “Lass, complaining is one thing but letting yourself freeze to death is another.”  
Anne nodded, at least he thought she did. It was too hard to tell with how shaky she was. “Th-thank you…”  
From that night on, things were easier between to two. Anne spoke more English as she came to trust the man she would marry, Allistor made more of an effort to speak to her. Soon, the two were having long conversations well into the night, usually over the chessboard, and the wedding was looked upon as a happy day to come.  
When Francis came to Stirling to see Anne, and was told by James V that he had sent her and Allistor to Edinburgh, the French nation was outraged. But once he arrived at Edinburgh to see Anne and Allistor out riding together, his anger melted.   
Anne looked happy. Not miserable. And her handmaidens attested to it. With a smile on his face, he simply rode on to the castle and pretended he hadn’t seen the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww aren’t’ they sweet? Y’know I never noticed how hard it was to write Scotland until I did and now I’m struggling to keep him in character. But I think I can pull this off. Fingers crossed everyone!  
> I do not own any of the characters except for Anne, Lyanna, Selena, and Evangeline. They’re my OCs. Review please! Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

Allistor and Anne were married on May 18, 1538 in the Edinburgh Castle Chapel, the same time when a proxy wedding was being held at Notre Dame in Paris.  
Anne, understandably, was nervous, and was only able to eat a small bowl of porridge. As Lyanna dressed her in her pale green kirtle and pale green cotehardie and Evangeline brushed her hair until it shone then fastened it up in the braided crown she had worn the day she met Allistor, Anne let her mind wander. A blue ribbon was wound in her hair and a sixpence piece was placed in her shoe. After that came the wedding itself.  
Anne was lead down the aisle by a fellow countryman, a man by the name of Phillipe with kind blue eyes and blonde hair, and given to Allistor with an air of respect.  
Allistor was waiting for her at the end, with the priest, Father Malcom. Anne couldn’t help but think he looked handsome in his tartan, and a blush came to her cheeks when she met his eyes, though he probably couldn’t tell he was looking at her due to the veil.  
Father Malcom smiled at the two, a pair of happier lovers he had never seen, and began to speak. “My dear friends, you have come together in this church so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of the Church’s minister and this community. Christ abundantly blesses this love. He has already consecrated you in baptism and now he enriches and strengthens you by a special sacrament so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity. And so, in the presence of the Church, I ask that you state your intentions. Allistor and Anne, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage? Will you love and honor each other for the rest of your lives? Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and His Church?”  
“I will.” Anne said, glad her voice wasn’t shaky.  
“I will.” Allistor’s voice sounded almost soft and scared for a second. Was he as nervous as she was?  
Father Malcom nodded. “Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hand, and declare your consent before God and His Church.”  
Allistor looked into Anne’s eyes, as best he could see them with the veil over her face, and began his vows. “I, Allistor Kirkland, take you, Anne Catherine Bonnefoy, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”  
Anne smiled and tears clouded her eyes as she blinked them away. She looked into Allistor’s eyes, taken by the green of them, and said her own vows. “I, Anne Catherine Bonnefoy, take you, Allistor Kirkland, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”  
Father Malcom smiled. Such a lovely pair these two were to him. “You have declared your consent before the church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consents and fill you both with His blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide.”  
“Amen.” The bride, groom, and congregation answered.  
The rings were brought forward by Phillipe, and Anne smiled softly at their sizes as Father Malcom began to speak again. “May the Lord bless these rings which you have given each other as the sign of your love and fidelity.”  
“Amen.” Came the appropriate response.  
Allistor took Anne’s ring in his hand. Such a wee thing, he thought. But Anne’s fingers were so tiny. “Anne, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”  
Anne took Allistor’s ring in her hand, her voice slightly thick with tears. She loved him so much as she smiled at him. “Allistor, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”  
The tears, held back for the whole ceremony, fell freely as Allistor lifted the veil and placed a gentle chaste kiss on his new wife’s lips. Anne, having never been kissed, was shocked and didn’t know what to do. So, she thought back to the women of the French court, who threw their arms around the men they kissed, and did the same, carefully wrapping her arms around Allistor’s shoulders.  
The two were lead out of the chapel to the sound of pipes playing and then it was on to the wedding feast.  
Spit-roasted meat, grilled beavers’ tails, whole roasted swan, kidney pies, black pudding, boar’s head, vegetables, marzipan, ale, wine, whiskey, mead, and lastly, the wedding cake. It was three tiers high, tasted of brandy, and was iced with sweet cream icing.  
Although Anne had never much liked the taste of whiskey, brandy, or ale, the wine and honeyed mead were perfect for her, though she eventually stopped drinking so she could go to her marriage bed with something of a good head on her shoulders.  
“Anne, love, these are me wee brothers, Dristan, Seamus, and Arthur.” Allistor had succeeded in getting Anne’s attention and directing it towards the three men who stood staring at her like she was some kind of creature.  
The blonde one she recognized. “Arthur, delightful to see you again.”  
Arthur blinked and nodded, kissing her hand. “My lady.”  
Dristan, the one with dark hair, smiled sweetly at her and did the same. “Welcome to the family, Anne.” Anne decided she liked him best already.  
Seamus, the youngest of them all it seemed, smiled widely and swept her into a hug. “Welcome to the family!”  
Anne danced with each of her new brothers before the end of the night, when it was time to put the newlyweds to bed.  
Anne was dressed in her chambers, as she had since the day she first arrived. Her hair was unbraided, brushed until it shone, then braided again into one simple braid. She was dressed in a loose white nightgown, and then left to sit in bed until her husband joined her, which he did not too long after.  
For a while, their friends and family made loud noises, encouragements, and bawdy noises, before the two were left one.  
Anne’s fingers twisted in the blanket, her teeth worrying the inside of her lip. What should she do? Her father had told her what it meant when she started bleeding every month, that if she let a man take his pleasure with her it could result in a child being born, and that such things were to be saved until she was married.  
Well, here she was. She was married. What should she do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God this chapter took forever to write! Many thanks to chatholicweddinghelp.com for the vows. And thank you all so much for reading this story! I’m so glad people are actually taking the time to read my work!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
Anne stared at the warm winter quilt that lay covering her legs, examining the patches of fabric, the stitching, the embroidery, anything to distract her from what would happen.  
A rough hand covered her own, and Anne looked up to meet her husband’s green eyes. “Y-Yes?”  
“I won’t force you into anything, Anne.” Allistor said. “This is your choice.”  
“It’s my duty….”  
“Anne….be honest with me now lass…have you ever done this before? Your father told me you were married before. I’m assuming you went to bed with him.”  
Anne’s lower lip trembled and she covered her face with her hands as she wept, muttering in French.  
“Oh hey now. Look at me, bhean.” With careful hands, Allistor moved his wife’s so he could see her face. “Now, tell me what you’re trying to say.”  
Anne took a deep breath and, slowly, began to explain. “I married Antonio according to my father’s wishes. It was a time of war, he had just lost the woman he loved, and he wanted to make sure that I could be taken care of if anything ever happened to him. So, he sent me to Antonio on a ship with a letter saying that I was to marry him.  
“I’ve known Antonio since I was a small child, Allistor. I didn’t love him the way a wife is supposed to love her husband. I never will. But he was so kind to me…he treated me more like a daughter than a wife. The Spanish court mocked us behind our backs, calling Antonio all sorts of names and me his child bride. For 30 years I stayed in Spain, travelling with the court, sharing my husband’s hurts. We shared a bed, but that was all. He never made a move to touch me, never gave me anything more than a peck on the cheek.  
“When it was safe to return to France, Antonio sent me back to my father with a letter and two times my dowry. Papa was furious, at me, at Antonio, it was such a mess….”  
Allistor rubbed a soothing hand over his wife’s back, remembering not so long ago when he had comforted Arthur this way. “I see why you were reluctant to marry me.”  
Anne nodded. “I figured since you were a fiend of my father, like Antonio, you would look at me as if I were a child. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be another child bride in a strange place.”  
“Look at me Anne. Look in my eyes and answer me truthfully. Have your bosom and hips grown outhte last few years?”  
“Well yes but-“  
“and you’ve gotten thinner, lost some baby fat?”  
“Yes but why-“  
“And you bleed once a month, correct?”  
“Yes. Why are you asking me all this?”  
“You bleed, you’ve slimmed down, you’ve grown a grownup body. You’re not a child, Anne. You’re a woman. You’re my woman.”  
Anne’s pale cheeks flushed and she looked away. “I-I won’t deny that I’m scared…I don’t know…the ways of a husband and a wife…”  
“Did your father not tell you?”  
“He told me. I just…I’m not sure how it works. Will it hurt?”  
“Aye. It may.”  
Anne’s eyes looked up into his, so big, so wide, so frightened. “Will you…will you be gentle with me?”  
A smile tugged at the corners of Allistor’s mouth. “Aye. I can do that for you mo bhean.”  
And gentle he was. Calloused fingers began to trace over Anne’s features, going over the shape of her eyes, her nose, her lips and cheekbones, like a blind man may try to see what someone looks like.  
“Beautiful…” Allistor whispered softly.  
His hands left her face, tracing the line of her neck, her shoulders, her arms, down to her thin delicate fingers. “It’ll be easier on you if we touch like this. “  
“How do you know?” Anne asked. His tenderness had moved her heart and she tightened her fingers in his.  
Allistor smiled at his wife in the candlelight. “That’s what I was told when I had my first. And so far, it’s been helping.”  
“O-Oh…”  
“Look at me, Anne.” A slender finger turned Anne’s face towards Allistor’s, his eyes serious. “I only ask one thing of you tonight, lass. If I go too far, if I’m hurting you, tell me. I’ll not make my wife’s first time awful. Do you understand?”  
Anne blinked, nodded, and shut her eyes when Allistor moved to slowly lift the hem of her nightgown.  
“Sit up lass, I can’t get it off if you’re lying on it.”  
Anne did as she was asked, letting her only article of clothing be pulled over her head as if she were a child. When she laid back down, she suddenly felt very exposed, and very afraid. Her fingers tightened on Allistor’s hand as she turned to look away from him.  
This gave her husband the perfect opportunity to start lavishly kissing her neck, adorning the soft white skin with gentle nips, soft kisses, and the occasional soft flick of tongue. This continued for a few minutes until Anne made a small noise, whether of encouragement or impatience, Allistor to this day is still unsure.  
But when he kissed where her neck and shoulder met, right under a small freckle, Anne made the noise again. It was this spot Allistor attacked with gusto, nipping and kissing it until Anne’s breath came in soft pants and she wiggled under him.  
She muttered something in French, a plea, and Allistor was all to happy to provide as he undressed. Anne’s eyes, which had watched him as a hawk watched its prey, widened and she blinked.  
“Don’t worry lass. It’ll fit.” Allistor reassured as he returned to the bed and seated himself in between her thighs.  
Anne nodded, opening her mouth to speak before a noise of pleasure ripped its way from her throat. Never, not in her many years of existence, had she touched herself there. Now, her husband was doing it for her, paying attention to the way her free hand twisted to pillow, and the way her mouth opened.  
Anne’s voice rose in volume and pitch, before she arched off the bed slightly, trembling softly as her body went tense and relaxed. She blinked blearily at her husband, who smiled at her as if she was his whole world. The secret place between her legs felt twitchy, and her lungs burned for air. The rest of her felt light, and warm all over.  
As the feeling wore off, and the crap in her hips ebbed away, Anne looked up Allistor where he hovered over her. She could feel him pressed against her secret area, and his eyes sought hers for approval. Anne entwined his fingers with hers, and nodded her consent.  
It hadn’t hurt. Not as bad as she thought it would at least. It felt like a sharp pinch, and she cried out, but after that it was nothing. Allistor gave her a moment, or he needed one, Anne wasn’t so sure, before he began to move.  
It was slow, careful, if somewhat awkward, lovemaking. Anne watched her husband, eyes shut as he tried to work out a rhythm. Once he found one, it was only a matter of time. Five or six strokes and it was done.  
Anne felt him have his release, and rubbed his back because that’s what her nursemaid said would help him catch his breath.  
Allistor removed himself from her once he caught his breath, and laid beside her. He looked at her, Anne looked at him.  
God she was beautiful. Her bosom heaved, probably trying to breathe after having a grown man on top of you for a bit, her cheeks ere flushed, and she had a look of surprise on her face.  
“What is it?” he asked.  
“That’s it?” Anne answered. “That’s all there is to it?”  
Allistor couldn’t help but laugh. What kind of stories had this girl been told? “Aye Anne. That’s all there is to it.”  
Anne gave an indignant huff and crossed her arms as she watched her husband move to the washstand, stark naked, and come back with a soft cloth dipped in water. Carefully, he wiped her down, kissing her tenderly on her hipbones before cleaning up himself and coming back to bed.  
Anne pulled the covers up around the both of them, turned to face her husband, and yawned. “Goodnight.”  
Allistor pressed a kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, Anne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallelujah! My first lemon that wasn’t utter crap! Being a virgin, I was worried but it looks fine to me. Review please!  
> "bhean" wife in Scottish Gaelic (google translate)

**Author's Note:**

> And that’s chapter 1! Woohoo! Btw, I spent twenty minutes trying to name this story. I settled on national flowers and I have to say it sounds pretty good. I do not own anything but the plot and Anne, as she is my Hetalia OC. Please review and let me know I’m doing a good job. Thank you and have a great day!  
> 1.) Non. Papa, non. Vous ne pouvez pas me forcer à épouser cet homme! French “No. Papa, no. You cannot forece me to marry this man!”  
> 2.) Vous ferez comme vous dit Anne! French “You will do as you are told Anne!)”


End file.
